Write your fate
by Claret Thylacine
Summary: China looks back on his relationship with Japan, and, being unable to confess his feeling for the younger, settles with writing his heart out on a note. But, shortly afterwards, he is interrupted by none other than the marvelous America and a certain Asian nation. One-sided ChuNi & sort of AmeriPan.


**Yay! ChuNi time!**

**This is kind of a rotation between a sort of journal/diary entry for Yao, and then one in real times. It's...both authorized and not in China's situation.**

**Hints at AmeriPan (America/Japan) and one-sided (or is it?) ChuNi (China/Japan) I like ChuNi with love, but sometimes it's tragic and cute one-sided with Yao. ;-;**

**I don't really like AmeriPan, but... it has kind of grown on me.**

**Enjoy!**

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Those things you said; the words that spilt from your delicate lips, but were deceivingly sour and even on the verge of uncaring.

"_I'm not your brother anymore."_

The true meaning of your assurances was not subtle. Nor were they anything so crude I would have ever expected you, my beautiful Japan, to speak.

They had sliced through my heart like razors, punctured and damaged my pride to the point so that my entire being was bruised beyond repair.

I had never forgotten that day, and it had lingered with me for countless numbers of days, months, maybe even years. I don't remember exactly how long my pandemic lasted.

That was the day you claimed your independence. That was the day we fought like rabid animals and you slit my back.

The scar is still there; it lingers so long as your hatred for me remain unstrained: A constant reminder of my punishment for loving you too much. It sits snugly between my shoulder blades and peaks just at the hem of my neck, as if such a wound was meant to be. And maybe it was. Maybe our rift had been planned the moment you first set foot into my country, and I took you home from that bamboo forest.

After all, fate was an exceedingly spiteful being. He always seemed to know just where to meddle in a life. He always knew which blows would hurt the most. I would not put it past him to make me love you, only for you to hurt and betray me later on in our life.

My tears had been so consistent and so never-ending that they had flooded the Yangtze River. Did you know that? I don't think you did, you probably wrote it off as another natural disaster. It wasn't like my suffering was anything new, so why take such a concern then? There was simply no reason to; that was why.

Even after the bitterness and the fury had lessened, but all but faded from my mind, there was still a seed of that same unconditional love from when you had been mine. When you had belonged to me, and I was, selfishly, not obligated to share you with anyone.

I don't think my feelings for you had ever actually dissipated, but only remained, dormant and shallow, beneath my skin. There was a small part of me that felt only the strongest disgust for myself when I had been unable to release you from my clutches. That was also the part I battled with when I was helpless against your unconscious seduction. I hated, and still partly do, hate myself for not being able to hate you.

You were too good for me, and I didn't deserve you. I know that today, but I'm still not sure I've come to terms with it. It is difficult to let go of someone you treasure. I hope one day you can understand that and feel it yourself. Not because I long for your misery, no, I would never wish that upon you of all people, but because I wanted you to understand my actions.

Like you, I have committed sins that I am not proud of.

And, also in similarity to what I'm sure you have experienced, you wish with all your heart you could take back. Even if such dreams are impossible, humans still long for them. I do not know why, and seeing as I have never met Father Fate, probably never will.

I regret all I have done in The World Wars.

I regret The Tungchow Mutiny.

I regret making you leave me.

After all, I must have done something to drive Kuro to commit such atrocious crimes against me, my country, and my people. I would love to hear your reasons, though. I must admit that over many passings throughout my history those very same thoughts have raced through my mind, asking to be answered over and over again.

Could you even give me an explanation, dear Kiku? I ask you, do you even have the ability to push down your pride and tell me? Tell me _why_.

But, considering our past days, I promise not to leave my hopes high. You hurt me. You damaged my pride, but I still love you. As a brother, or even something more.

You don't talk to me anymore, either. Just like the rest of my, our, siblings. I sometimes have the meak consolation from Li and Mei and Im Yong Soo, but never from you.

No, after you were _modernized _(such an ugly word; I think you were perfect as were and didn't _need_ to be changed) there was a mad scramble from the other countries to get to you. But they didn't care for your friendship, just some petty, stupid alliance. And you knew! You knew they had no interest in Kiku, only Japan. But you allowed America, England, Greece, and even Russia your loyalty. They all backstabbed you in way or the other after they seemed sure they had earned your trust. America bombed you with atomic missiles for God's sake!

You forgave all of them. Every single one, and yet you cannot find it in your heart to forgive me? What could I have possibly done that was more horrid than Hiroshima and Nagasaki?

I would apologize to you again and again until you can learn to trust me once more, Japan. Could you do the same for me?

- 我爱你 -

中国

China looked up sharply from his finished letter at the sound of loud, (and in his opinion) arrogant, ugly laughter, frowning at the scene met before his eyes. The note (and a private one at that; he did not intend to be sharing it with anyone anytime soon) in his hand crumpled as his fists clenched and turned white.

That big blonde dunce, America, was half-jogging at a swift pace, beaming with pride and happiness down at the tiny country with whom he had one arm slung carelessly over the other's shoulders. China's scowl deepened further as he saw Japan smile shyly back before leaning slightly into the large Western country's hulking frame, blushing a pretty pink. How odd that Japan ever showed affection publicly. Yao was sure that if America was anyone else right now, Kiku would be even redder than he was now, and would be stuttering about how improper the whole situation was.

As France had said quite recently, and conveniently in China's presence, love did tend to do that to people.

America stopped suddenly, feeling the glare directed toward the back of his neck. He turned his head, and grinned even broader upon seeing a certain Chinese shadow.

"Yo, China!" America yelled, cupping his hands toward his mouth in order to make the sound echo. Japan faltered with the younger nation, and turned to stare an unsuspecting Yao straight in the eyes. With horror, China felt his cheeks burn, a sure sign of red appearing to coat his cheeks.

America smiled as he grabbed Japan's hand and entwined their fingers (China swore something inside him snapped as Kiku beamed back) before sprinting toward a very angry China. Seeing the lovely _couple _walking closer, China shoved his parchment into an open pocket on the chest of his dark shirt. He thought Kiku's eyes flickered to the note, but a second later they were back in another world of their own and Yao was sure he had just imagined it.

"Hey, you old coot, how've 'ya been?" America asked good-naturedly while wrapping his free arm around China and embracing all three of them in a ferocious bear hug. While Alfred didn't seem to notice the fuck-you-and-rot-in-Hell looks China was shooting at him, Japan did, and, with some small amount of reluctance, he wiggled himself from America's hold.

Yao seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Kiku, as he, too, shoved the American forcefully away from himself.

"Fine," he replied stiffly, brushing invisible dust off of his black Mao suit. "And you two?" At these words China did not look at Kiku, he couldn't bear to, but nevertheless Japan and America both knew what the other man meant.

"We're great, actually, better than great! My friend Japan here and I were planning to visit the Faneuil Hall later this week. It's 'gonna be so awesome!

"In fact," America said, rapt expression turning thoughtful, "Would you like to tag along, too, China? You'd probably like it, and there's always room for one more person."

Though Alfred obviously showed no signs of ill-intent and was looking at China kindly, Yao did not bother to hide a disgusted look toward the pair of them before his lutescent eyes grew cold and he fixed his gaze on a very uncomfortable Japan.

_How arrogant that America assumes everyone is bound to enjoy anything of his._

That was what Yao wanted to say. He almost did, too, until he felt his mouth form entirely different words.

"Really, America?" China said, now staring at Alfred. "You want to visit a historical site? Why? You don't seem the type for things past."

At this, America went slightly pink in the face, and he started, "Well…I'm usually not, you know? I'm into action, adventure, the works! But Japan suggested it one day and I thought it actually seemed like a cool thing to do. A different pace is always a good thing, anyway." America shrugged his shoulders and pulled Japan closer to his chest.

While Alfred didn't seem to realize the awful impact his last words made on China, Japan did, and the small black-haired country internally winced at the menacing frown China held on his face. See, it was times like this when Japan really did wish Alfred had a bit more tact and grace whilst sensing the mood and refraining from speaking.

"Ah, no, America-san, you were the one who said you wanted to see your sites again, you just… didn't really come out with it like you normally would," Japan said quickly, looking at Alfred, but trying not to make it seem too suggestive. When China still did not seem to relax at this and Japan was again going to try another brave attempt to steer the conversation away from the oncoming hostility threatening to crack at any moment, America jumped in, and said, "Yeah...I really think I've come to appreciate my own history more, actually. Something about being with you all, at these meetings, it just has had this really weird affect on me. Like, I always feel so much more open to sit down with the rest of you old geezers and just...just be together." America finished, now very pink in the face, and seemed truly embarrassed.

And that did it. China backed down and lowered his hackles slightly, though his dark eyes still had that ominous glint to them. It seemed that, for once, America's more undermined thinking and that stupid (but endearing) smile off his had brought peace. Japan let out a tiny sigh of relief; he hadn't even realized he was holding his own breath.

"But," America said suddenly, obviously trying to distract the conversation from his second of intimacy, "My offer still stands, China. D'you want to tag along? Maybe just for a little bit? It be fun, really! I know it sounds kind of boring, but, hey, you've still got us two!" Alfred beamed hopefully like all was right with the world, and Japan only looked at China. Kiku's eyes seemed faraway and distant, like their owner was not really there. But, in that one small space of time, Yao swore he saw something flicker in the small country's dark, dark eyes. They shone with...with something, and that pushed China over the edge.

He felt hope.

"Alright then, America, Japan," China sighed, feigning exasperation. "I'll go, but!" China said suddenly, turning sharply towards America with narrowed eyes, for the blonde had raised his hands in a sort of victory cheer, "Don't expect me to stay with you all the while. This is only a temporary situation."

America laughed loudly, and suddenly, his mirth didn't seem so ugly, so untasteful to China anymore. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because of this new scene, maybe Alfred had a new quality to him. But mostly, Yao found his happiness and his heart race not because of that joyous, carefree American, but instead in a small, raven-haired one. One with big, calligraphy-stroked chocolate brown eyes and that smile; Yao couldn't remember the last time that child had smiled.

Japan's eyes had that rare, beautiful spark in them again, and China didn't feel so alone and so cold anymore.

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**Is anyone up for a chapter 2? Or should this be a one-shot?**


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